


has anyone ever written anything for you?

by gutsandglitter



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:18:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsandglitter/pseuds/gutsandglitter
Summary: When Ada had hung up the Help Wanted sign in the window of Pendell’s Books, Hecate Hardbroom was the last person she expected would apply for the position.





	has anyone ever written anything for you?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassiopeiasara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeiasara/gifts).



> For the trope mash-up challenge: Bookshop AU + Mutual Pining + Locked in a Room

When Ada had hung up the Help Wanted sign in the window of Pendell’s Books, Hecate Hardbroom was the last person she expected would apply for the position. She was a regular at the shop (or at least had become one in the two years since Ada had taken over for her mother as owner and manager), but Ada could count on one hand the number of actual conversations she’d had with the woman, and she had a hard time seeing her as the kind of person who would want to work in a customer service position.

But she hires her anyway, partly out of curiosity and partly because the only other applicant (Geraldine Gullet) gave her a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Surprisingly, Hecate is a model employee. She’s prompt, tidy, has a near-encyclopedic knowledge of pre-twentieth century literature, and picks up extra shifts on holidays and weekends even though she knows Ada can’t offer her overtime. They become fast friends, initially bonding over a shared love of the Bronte sisters and Stevie Nicks. Hecate is quiet and doesn’t share much about herself, but she’s a remarkably good listener and always seems to have something wise to say when Ada asks her for advice.

Unsurprisingly, Ada soon begins to fall for Hecate. She’s always had a thing for tall women with high cheekbones, and God, Hecate is downright exquisite to look at. But Ada’s infatuation goes far beyond just her looks, she falls deeply and madly in love with Hecate’s mind, her wit, the strength of her convictions. She knows there’s no way Hecate could ever think of her that way, but she still can’t help but swoon every time Hecate helps her to grab a book off the top shelf, or brings her a cup of tea from the shop around the corner, or brings fresh flowers from her garden to put in a vase by the register. Hecate is just being friendly, she thinks. Nothing more.

One particularly stormy day, Ada asks Hecate to help her grab a few boxes from the storeroom. Moments after they enter the room, a draft sweeps down the hall and slams the door shut behind them. The building is old and the door is swollen from the humidity, so it’s completely immune to their tugging and shoving. After twenty minutes they give up on trying; Dimity’s scheduled to come in for the afternoon shift, and they know she’ll come looking for them when she sees the front of the shop empty.

Hecate spies a copy of _The Penelopiad_ on the shelf and settles down on the floor with it. She’s read it a dozen times over, but she never seems to tire of it. Ada tries flipping through a Dorothy Parker anthology but can’t really get into it. She glances over at Hecate, who’s got her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth in the most endearing (and attractive) way.

“Where did you grow up?” she asks.

Hecate glances up from her book. “Hmm?”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Oh.” She looks momentarily confused. “Er, just outside Basingstroke.”

Ada hums. “Any siblings?”

“Why do you ask?” Hecate shifts, uncrossing her legs and tucking them to the side. Her brow is furrowed, and she’s beginning to look tense.

Ada shrugs. “Just curious. We’ve been friends for a while now and you listen to me blather on day in and day out, but I feel like I don’t know much about you.”

Hecate’s expression softens. “I don’t think you blather on. I like hearing your stories.” She hesitates for a moment. “I have a brother and a sister, Horace and Hera. Horace moved to Canada a few years back, but Hera and her family live just down the lane from me.”

Ada grins. “Horace, Hera, and Hecate?”

Hecate’s cheeks flush. “Our parents were scholars on Greek mythology. They were terribly impractical and embarrassingly alliterate when it came to naming us, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, but I think those are all beautiful names,” Ada says. “What’s your middle name?”

“Morgana.”

“Well that’s-“ Ada freezes. “Hecate Morgana?”

Hecate nods.

“As in H. Morgana? The author?”

Hecate pales, and it’s an impressive feat for someone of her coloring. She coughs and looks away.

Ada is stunned. She’d heard a rumor that the famed reclusive author lived somewhere nearby, but she’d never thought much about it. The woman had been notoriously private over the course of her career, despite the fact that her readership was somewhere in the millions, but she hadn’t published anything in years, leading many to speculate that she’d retired.

But no, apparently she had just been working in a small, family-owned bookshop in Wandsworth the whole time.

“I don’t understand,” Ada says softly. “What…why are you working here? Surely you don’t need the money. Your books are still best-sellers, even since your retirement.”

Hecate snorts and looks away. “I never retired,” she says bitterly. “I,” she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “I developed writer’s block.”

Ada is stunned. She’s known Hecate for nearly four years now, and has counted her as a friend for half that time. She doesn’t know what to make of this new development.

Fortunately she’s saved from having to respond by a confused-looking Dimity wrenching the door open. Hecate jumps up, dropping _The Penelopiad_. She glances at her watch and mumbles something about her shift being over, and hurries out of the store.

Ada is confused and bewildered, and more than a little hurt by Hecate’s lie of omission, though she knows she has no right to be. She goes home that evening and digs out her well-worn copy of _All That We Are_ , H. Morgana’s debut novel. She only means to flip through it, but she gets sucked in by the prose and stays up all night reading it.

The next morning when Ada arrives at Pendell’s, Hecate is sitting on the front steps with two cups of tea and a pensive, apologetic smile. She doesn’t say anything at first, just hands Ada one of the teas and waits for her to unlock the door.

Once they’re inside, Hecate sets her own cup on the front counter and begins fumbling with the black leather satchel that hangs from her shoulder.

“I realize I didn’t answer your question yesterday,” she says quietly.

Ada furrows her brow. “What?”

“When you asked me why I work here.”

Ada shrugs. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” It’s true. While Ada does have a burning desire to know the answer, Hecate doesn’t owe it to her. She had a previous job that she didn’t tell Ada about, so what? Ada’s just relieved to see her here this morning.

Hecate shakes her head. “But I do.” She reaches into her satchel and removes a messy sheaf of papers. “You see, I told you my career stalled because of writer’s block. But I no longer have that problem because…well, because of you.” She extends the papers with shaking hands.

Ada’s heart is pounding in her ears as she reaches out and takes the papers. It’s a thick, uneven stack, a combination of loose-leaf notebook paper and regular printer paper with a few cocktail napkins stuck in. But each page, including the napkins, is absolutely covered in writing, from top to bottom and all along the margins. She can’t make out the handwriting, but a few typewritten phrases jump out at her – baby blue gaze and well-loved pink jumper and a smile which put starlight to shame.

She looks up at Hecate, whose cheeks have gone scarlet as she stares intently at the ground.

“One of the ah, one of the first times I came in here, you smiled at me and said hello. You were standing by the window and the way the sunlight hit you it was like…” Hecate makes a vague hand gesture. “Like a dam broke and everything came rushing back to me. I couldn’t wait to get home and write. I hadn’t felt that way in years. When you put up that Help Wanted sign, I applied because I knew it would give me the chance to spend time with you and be near you and….and fall in love with you.”

Ada opens her mouth to respond, but no words come out. So she steps forward and places her free hand on Hecate’s burning cheek. Hecate looks up at her, dark eyes under dark lashes, and Ada still can’t bring herself to put words to her feelings. So instead she rocks up onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to Hecate’s.

Hecate sighs, a soft sound of relief and joy. She winds her arms around Ada’s waist and pulls her close, causing Ada to drop the sheaf of papers. Ada gasps as the papers go flying, sliding across the oak floorboards in all directions.

Ada shifts and goes to retrieve them. “I’m so sorry, let me-“

But Hecate pulls her back, presses her forehead to Ada’s temple. “Leave them,” she murmurs. “This is far more important”


End file.
